Endless Possibilities
by letmeannoyyoutoday
Summary: Anthology. Sasu/Saku. Sasuke, Sakura, and the Uchiha family. o8: parenthood
1. morning sickness

As soon as the front door closed silently and securely behind him, Sasuke removed his shoes and hurried up the stairs, years of training and serving as a high-ranking shinobi enabling him to move completely soundlessly.

He thought he had never been more grateful for that particular trait.

Walking down the wide hallway, he stopped upon reaching the room at the very end, gently pushing the double doors open.

His stealth soon turned out to have been of little use; she was still awake.

Crossing the room to where she was lying in bed, skin and hair damp from what he could only guess had been recent bath, he sat down beside her, the mattress dipping slightly with his weight.

"Hi," she whispered, sensing his presence, placing a hand over his thigh in greeting.

She smiled softly, but her eyes remained closed, her breathing light and shallow, the small crease in her forehead speaking of her discomfort.

A gentle breeze blew in from the open window, bringing along the scent and sound of fresh rain pattering against the damp soil.

"How are you?" he asked.

She wrinkled her nose. "Same."

Heaving a sigh, Sasuke leaned over her small figure, brushing wet tendrils of hair from her forehead and pressing a tender kiss to her temple.

Sakura groaned. "Why do you smell like ramen?"

Jerking away, the Uchiha cursed his best friend in a manner so creative, that it made his wife laugh, the mattress shaking lightly with the evidence of her mirth.

"I'll be back," he promised, stalking into the bathroom, practically ripping his clothes off in irritation.

As he stood under the hot spray of the shower, cursing a certain knuckleheaded Hokage some more, Sasuke wondered when it would all _end_.

Sakura was almost four months pregnant, which meant that she had been throwing up her insides, every morning, without fail, for at least two. She had said it was normal—and he believed it was, truly, especially since he had absolutely no knowledge of anything pregnancy-related—but when it stopped her from ever leaving the bed before ten, and yet always ensured she was up before seven, Sasuke was slowly, but surely, losing his mind.

He _hated_ seeing her in pain, discomfort, and any other state that might hinder the appearance of a smile on her pretty face. He absolutely _loathed_ them all. And, sometimes, he felt as though he hated himself even more, for not being able to chase them away.

From the very beginning, he'd made it his top priority to sit by her side throughout it all, holding her hair and stroking her back, carrying her back to bed and cooking her breakfast once her stomach settled. He was pampering her, she'd claimed once, but he'd disagreed. He wasn't the unfeeling bastard people seemed to be under the impression he was. He may not shout it out for the entire world to hear—and something told him most wouldn't believe him even if he did—but he loved Sakura with every inch of his being, and, perhaps more importantly, she hadn't landed in this situation by herself. He'd helped—a great deal—so he was more than willing, and even _adamant_, to shoulder half of the responsibility and more, were he able.

Stepping out of the shower, he quickly dried his body and ran a towel roughly through his hair, hurrying to return to her side.

He thought he could have _strangled_ Naruto when he requested his presence at an emergency council meeting that morning, and then swung a punch at him every single time he insisted it was necessary despite Sasuke's uncharacteristically loud protests.

When he found out Sakura was pregnant, and then realized her morning sickness was so violent, the Uchiha had requested to be transferred to office duty and not sent out on any mission unless it was literally the end of the world. Being a high-ranking ANBU captain and one of the Hokage's right-hand men, he had a feeling that the only reason why his wish was actually granted was because Naruto was just as protective of Sakura as himself, but it was also true that there was never a shortage of paperwork for him to complete. And, aside from a couple of trips back and forth to his or Naruto's office during the week, Sasuke could do most of the work at the Uchiha Mansion, which enabled him to be there for Sakura in everything that she needed.

Including, apparently, accompanying her to and picking her up from the hospital, where she insisted she could still work for a couple of more months.

Sasuke believed she was crazy.

But then again, he justified, that might be one of the reasons why he was so much in love with her vivid personality, and so, he had to bite his tongue and suffer through it.

Pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a simple t-shirt, he strolled back inside the bedroom, climbing on the other side of the king-sized bed.

As soon as he had properly lain down, Sakura moved to curl up against him, making herself small and warm, burying her face into—what he had a vague suspicion was her favourite part of his body—the crook of his neck, while he shifted to accommodate her better by lifting his arm and wrapping it around her lithe waist.

"You smell nice," she sighed against the skin of his neck.

In response, Sasuke began to soothingly run a hand up and down her curved back. He had discovered, very early on, that it seemed to help, and he had done it every morning since.

They sat in silence for a while, wrapped up in each other's arms. Had it not been for the subtle signs he could read so easily, Sasuke could have easily been fooled into believing that she had fallen asleep. But he saw the way her little hand clenched in the fabric of his shirt every so often and felt her uncomfortable puffs of breath on the skin of his neck as she fought with the nausea—and he was reminded, yet again, of how much he _hated_ the fact that she had to go through such a situation.

As the wind intensified outside, the rain falling down more powerfully, he tugged the thin comforter from where it had been kicked off at the end of the bed, covering her snugly up to where his arm was curled around her middle.

Finally, after what had to be at least another half an hour, Sakura's breathing evened out, and the tension dissipated from her muscles.

"Better?" he murmured against her forehead.

"Yeah," she sighed, nodding. "…Our little girl appears to feel very comfortable with you. Not so much with me."

Sasuke smirked, catching on to the jibe. "That's because our little _boy_ already has a favourite."

She smiled.

"Are you tired?" he asked.

If his math was correct—which he was inclined to believe it was—she'd been up for a little over four hours. She wasn't getting enough sleep, he was sure of it, and constantly battling nausea couldn't be exactly relaxing.

He was proved right when she nodded.

"Try to sleep for a bit," he encouraged, running his hand down the length of her spine. "It'll have gone away by the time you wake up."

"Mm," she agreed, moving even closer—wrapping an arm around his neck, sneaking a leg between his, pressing her face snugly into his throat. And, as he tightened his grip in accord, Sasuke was struck with a sudden realization.

He held her to him, closed his eyes, and saw his future unfold before him, endless possibilities spilling out, forming scenario after scenario, one more beautiful than the last; and he wondered when exactly it had been that this life—this beautiful, peaceful, _complete_ life that he would change for nothing in the entire world—had become _his_. When he had stopped being the child who had lost his entire family, when he had stopped being a murderer and a traitor or the last member of a dead clan on whose shoulders rested more responsibility than some men had to face in an entire lifetime. When he had stopped being the teenage boy who had felt so betrayed by everybody in his life, that his last and only resort was to betray everybody in turn.

When he had stopped being everything he had once hated, and instead became _this_ man. This man that was _happy_. This man that looked forward to waking up in the mornings and coming home in the evenings. That dreaded the beginning of a long mission, however much it was filled with adrenaline, and could hardly wait for its end. This man man that couldn't walk beside his wife without reaching for her small hand, that couldn't say goodbye without giving her a kiss; this man that would rather swallow his pride and apologize, even if he had done nothing wrong, rather than spend the night on the couch, without her warm body beside him.

He didn't know. He couldn't recall the transformation. All he could do was look at himself in the mirror and confess that it would literally _kill_ him to go back to the person he had used to be.

She'd transformed him completely and turned his life upside down in the best possible of ways. Everything he had now, everything that kept him going, that made him peaceful, was thanks to her.

_She_ had been the one whose light had been so bright it had chased the shadows and the ghosts of an entire clan away. _She_ had been the one to release him of his painful past.

And she'd done it all selflessly—with just the simple hope that, someday, she would manage to bring him happiness.

She'd succeeded—in more than one way.

Through the multitude of reasons why he would be forever grateful and indebted to her, Sasuke reasoned, that would probably be the most significant one. That she'd pulled him out of the darkness and given him not only a future, but a _present_.

The young Uchiha had never quite lived simply for the moment until he welcomed her in his life.

And, small discomforts and little problems aside, Sasuke knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he had never been happier with his present than he was in this very second, with her gently dozing off in his arms and his own eyes growing heavy, with the sound of raindrops pattering against the roof crooning in his ears and the cool breeze wafting through the window brushing against his skin, and with no plans for the rest of the day other than to be lazy in bed and cook her favourite meals and be yelled at because being pregnant did not mean she was disabled and hear all about how she was planning on painting the nursery pink because their baby would most definitely be a girl.

And to love her.

Because, as he was slowly discovering, that was the most important act he could accomplish.

* * *

**Date: o3/o6/2o14**

**A/N: **Was in the mood to write something mushy, for the lack of a better word, and so this came out!


	2. daddy's little girl

Sasuke arrived home that evening to a crying daughter and a frustrated wife.

No sooner had he closed the front door behind him, that his expression shifted from carefully cultivated apathy to full-blown concern, his steps automatically quickening at the sound of the commotion coming from the living room.

"_No,_ Sarada," he heard Sakura speak firmly. "Sweetie, you can't start crying every time someone denies you something!"

Hurrying down the hallway, the young Uchiha barely avoided stepping on a scattered toy as his small family came into view, forming a scenario that was as unfamiliar as it was unpleasant.

Sakura stood in the middle of the sunset-bathed room, hands on her hips and a stern furrow between her brows, dressed down in a white t-shirt and a pair of simple sweatpants and with her wavy hair caught in a disheveled bun. Sarada, small and precious and barely a year old, wobbled towards him on quick feet, face red and scrunched-up and marred with salty moisture.

"Papa!" she wailed, looking at him with big, tear-filled eyes and holding up her little hands, practically pleading with him to sweep her up into his protective arms.

His eyes softened in an instant, but Sakura's snap put him off initiating any action.

"Do _not_ pick her up!" she demanded, glaring fiercely in his direction.

His head snapped up. "What?"

"You _heard_ me!" she answered. "I know what you're planning. But she needs to learn that the world won't be served to her on a silver platter simply because she starts crying!"

"_Papa_!" Sarada wailed again, and Sasuke did not waste any more time acting surprised at his wife's demeanor, instantly bending down to effortlessly lift his baby daughter in his embrace. Quieting slightly, Sarada pressed her wet face into his shoulder, her little arms wrapping around his neck, fists clinging needily to the material of his shirt.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" the Uchiha hissed, addressing his wife, as he started to rub comforting circles on his daughter's back.

"Oh, there you go," she spat. "Problem solved! You come home once a month, pick her up when she cries, and ruin what little sense of discipline I'm trying to instill into her!"

"Discipline?" he scoffed. "She's _crying_."

"Yes, and she shouldn't be! People don't cry every time things don't go their way!"

"She's a _child_!"

"Don't you dare!" Sakura snapped. "Do _not_ even _try_ to call me a bad parent."

"Well, there must be a reason why your daughter is _crying_ while you're standing there, yelling at _me_!" he snapped back, without thinking, and instantly regretted the words that came out of his mouth.

For a second, Sakura seemed taken aback, unsure of how to react, but quickly seemed to recover; she let out a small, choked sigh of frustration and swiftly crossed the room, not sparing him another glance as she stormed out the door.

"Sakura—" he tried to call out, but she was already gone.

Anybody else probably wouldn't have noticed the tears in her eyes as she brushed past him—but Sasuke wasn't just anybody.

Groaning, with his arms still full with a crying child, the Uchiha decided against following her. She'd cool down by herself.

Sarada, on the other hand, was tiny and fragile and still clinging tightly to his shirt.

* * *

By the time he was finally able to escape the clutches of his crying child, Sakura was already in bed. Clad in green pajamas, she lay with her back to him, the covers drawn up over her shoulders and pink hair obscuring the half of her face that should have been visible even in the low light.

He heaved a sigh.

Crossing the room, he climbed in beside her; he reached out to delicately brush her hair behind her ear and then wrapped an arm around her waist, pressing a kiss to her wet, salty cheek.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, burying his face into the crook of her neck. "You're not a bad mother. Kami help me, you could _never_ be a bad mother. I just… I can't see her cry." He huffed, frustrated. "You _know_ that. And I know she'll manipulate the crap out of me when she's older, but…"

Sakura surprised him by snorting. "When she's _older_?" she scoffed, turning her head slightly. "Why do you think she started to cry that loudly when you entered the room? I wasn't _beating_ her."

A moment passed before the realization finally settled in his mind.

"Fuck," was his sole response.

Just then, his daughter appeared to decide that she needed more coddling, because another cry resounded down the hallway, followed by a near-desperate wail of, "_Papa!_"

Sasuke groaned.

With a tired giggle, Sakura shoved him with her shoulder. "Go," she said. "Wouldn't want her to think you're as bad as I am."

He didn't need any more encouragement, and as she turned on her back to watch him hurry out of the room to tend to their spoiled child, she reminded herself that it was silly to even consider the idea that he ever would.

No, Sarada got everything she wanted from and out of her father. That was the way it always had been, and she was beginning to come to terms with the fact that it was the way it always would be.

She gave them a good ten minutes before she slipped out of bed to follow them. The cries had quieted long ago, yet she thought the house was strangely silent as she padded down the stairs, along the hallway, and into the kitchen, where she stopped short at the sight that met her.

Sasuke stood leaning against the counter, a somewhat appeased Sarada in his arms holding onto a little bottle filled with what she immediately recognized as chocolate milk—the sweet, sugary drink that her daughter absolutely loved, but that she was also absolutely _not_ supposed to drink so late at night.

"Sasuke," she started to reprimand him, but then stopped. She shook her head, crossed her arms over her chest, and huffed. "You know what? Fine. It's time you learned what happens when you give a child chocolate milk right before bedtime. Just because she _cries_ for it."

Instead of the annoyed remark she'd expected to receive in return, Sasuke simply threw her a dismissive glare, before averting his gaze and pressing a kiss to the top of Sarada's head. The girl huffed and, still holding onto her bottle with tiny hands, rested her head onto his shoulder, her forehead pressed against his neck, continuing to sulk quietly in the warmth that her father offered.

Sakura sighed at the realization of how little either of them cared about what she had to say.

But it would be a lie to say that the sweet, endearing scene didn't melt away all of her reserves—together with her heart—and because she valued honesty, perhaps, above all else, she heaved a sigh and approached the two most important persons in her life.

Placing a tender hand over her daughter's small back, she stood on her tiptoes to press a fleeting kiss to her husband's nose.

"You're an amazing father," she whispered softly, looking up into his dark eyes. "You know that, right?"

The Uchiha scowled. "You just—"

"Oh, you're spoiling her," she agreed. "And boy, are you going to pay for that. But that doesn't make you any less amazing." She kissed his lips this time, smiling when he eventually grunted in response.

Pulling away, she brushed her lips against Sarada's temple, turned and retraced her steps out of the room.

In the doorway, however, she stopped, turning to grace her husband with a wicked grin.

"By the way… tonight? When she starts crying for attention because she can't fall asleep? You have the honor of dealing with her."

Sasuke's only response was another scowl.

Not surprisingly, though, it was accompanied by a duck of his head and another tender brush of his lips against Sarada's forehead.

* * *

**Date: 16/11/2o14**

A/N: In the light of recent (and _amazing_) manga events, I've decided to turn this into a series of drabbles/one-shots concerning the Uchiha family. Because they're amazing. And _canon_.

Please review and let me know what you thought! I have this idea that Papa Uchiha wouldn't be able to stand listening to his baby daughter cry and no one could possibly get it out of my mind, so I figured I might as well write a story about it!


	3. home alone

"Do you _have_ to leave?" Sasuke asked from where he sat on the edge of the bed, watching as his wife carefully smoothed her long, pink hair into a high ponytail.

"Yes," was her simple answer. She threw him a look through the mirror. "Not that you haven't been asking the same question the entire day."

With a shrug, the Uchiha crossed his arms over his chest and averted his scowl. "Just making sure you've thought this through," he said.

Sakura raised an eyebrow. Taking one last glance at her reflection, she turned to face him, leaning back against the dressing table. "Thought _what_ through, exactly?" Her question was innocent, but he'd spend just about enough time by her side to be alerted by her tone. "Returning to _work_ now that I'm a _mother_?"

Sakura was a highly emotional person. She wore her heart on her sleeve and she felt every single thing that happened to her, be it positive or negative, to the fullest. Because of that, her voice was always infused with _some_ sort of emotion, and if one paid enough attention, they could easily tell it was just as expressive as her beautiful green eyes.

Now, it was deadly calm and precise.

Sasuke swallowed, but held his ground. "I meant returning to work, in the _hospital_, _now_. It's cold outside. People are sick. You could get cold and sick, too. And Sarada…" He trailed off, and shrugged, still not meeting her gaze. "I'm just saying."

"That's sweet," she immediately quipped. "So… This is really just about the possibility of the greatest med-nin in all Five Nations catching a cold she couldn't _possibly_ recover from. It's not about the infamous Uchiha Sasuke being left alone with his two month old daughter for the first time."

Sasuke's eyes snapped up to glare viciously at his wife.

She stood there, still leaning against the dressing table, arms crossed over her chest and a smug smirk on her pretty lips, clearly more than a little bit pleased about having finally found the opportunity to address the worry that had been clawing at his throat—and, indirectly, at her own—since she announced she had booked a shift at the hospital two days before.

"Tch," he scoffed, leaning back onto his hands. He didn't deny it, but he would rather not eat tomatoes for an entire _week_ than actually admit it.

Sakura's smirk softened into a smile; she was, as she had always been, perfectly able to read his mind.

Pushing off the dressing table, she moved to sit beside him, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I love you," she told him. "I love both you and Sarada very, very much—but I can't spend another day without my hospital. I need to close a wound, I need to put in an IV, I need—" She took in a deep breath, and stopped. "Medicine isn't just what I'm good at, Sasuke-kun. It's what I love. And it's time that I got back to it."

"I get that," he said.

"I know you do. That's one of the _reasons_ why I love you." She smiled, pecking his lips this time. "You and Sarada are going to be just fine. I'm only going to be gone for the afternoon and you've taken care of her for longer periods of time before."

"But you've always been here," he blurted out, without thinking. Instead of stopping and giving himself a mental slap, however, he continued, "You've always been in the house, Sakura. What if she cries? What if she doesn't want to eat? What if she wants her _mother_?"

His wife was surprisingly calm and collected as she gently brushed his bangs away from his forehead. "She won't want her mother, because she has her father—and she loves him just as much." She smiled, pressing another small kiss to his lips. "She won't cry herself dry. She will eat. You won't drop her. You won't _traumatize_ her." A small laugh escaped her, betraying her amusement over the situation. "You'll both be just fine. Alright?"

Standing up, she didn't wait for an answer as she walked out of the room, leaving Sasuke with no other choice than to follow her.

But he knew where she was going even before he had the chance to see her disappearing down the hallway.

The door to the nursery was ajar, as they always left it even though they had a working baby monitor. One would be quick to say it had been Sasuke's idea, but in fact, that wasn't the case. The naked truth was that Sakura had been just as terrified as him, those first couple of days and nights spend with their precious baby girl in the house, and that was one of the reasons why he found it so ridiculous that she now seemed so ready to mock him whenever he voiced—or rather, _implied_—his concerns.

"Hi, honey," he heard her coo, entering the room to find her bent over the white crib, pink hair tucked behind her ears and a wide smile stretching upon her lips. "I had a feeling you were awake!"

Slipping her hands carefully under Sarada's small body, she lifted her up into her arms, pressing a kiss to one of her rosy cheeks.

"Guess what?" Sakura addressed her, while Sasuke came to a stop a mere foot away from them, burying his hands into his pockets as he watched them interact with warm eyes. "Mama gets to go back to work today!" Sarada giggled, lifting a hand to her mother's lips, who immediately took the opportunity to kiss her palm. "_Yes_! So you and Papa get to have a slumber party while Mama mends—or breaks—some bones!"

Sasuke snorted when Sarada grinned.

"Here," Sakura said, turning towards him to hand the baby over, unable to resist a smile as Sasuke cradled her, expertly and without hesitation, in his embrace, supporting her with one arm under her tiny legs and a large hand over her back.

A Daddy's girl—Sakura swore—from the moment she took her first breath, Sarada rested her head onto his shoulder and instantly pressed her face into the crook of his neck.

Still grinning from ear to ear, she stepped closer, brushing a hand over her daughter's fine, black hair and pressing a kiss to her husband's cheek. "I love you, and you have absolutely nothing to worry about. I'll see you both later tonight."

With that, she hurried out of the room, leaving Sasuke to groan quietly in despair to himself.

* * *

Sasuke shifted his attention away from his wife's small, yet bright, form among the mountains of white snow piled outside the Uchiha Mansion when his daughter let out a small, discontented sound from where she was small and warm and literally weightless against his shoulder.

"What?" he murmured softly in response, pulling back slightly so he could catch a glimpse of her adorable face. "Are you hungry?"

As if comprehending his question, Sarada let out another quiet whine, watching him through half-lidded onyx eyes.

"Let's feed you, then."

Walking out of the nursery and down the stairs, the Uchiha made a conscious effort not to allow himself to become overwhelmed with anxiety.

Sure, he'd taken care of Sarada before. He was usually the first to leave the bed when she cried in the middle of the night. He had absolutely no problem with letting her wipe her tears and snot on every one of his pajama tops. He knew how to change her diapers, how to bathe her, how to feed her, and even how to dress her, although he still struggled with the tiny buttons on her shirts and onesies. He entertained her when she was bored, lulled her to sleep when she was cranky and tired, and hardly ever allowed her out of his arms and sight when she was awake.

Yes, Sasuke had gained more than enough experience in looking after a child in the two months since his daughter had been born.

But his wife had always been _there_. His wife had always been _beside him_. He'd always had her to run to if he couldn't get Sarada to stop crying. He'd always had her to turn to if he couldn't button up her onesie. He'd always had her to direct a quizzical glance to when Sarada did or needed something that he couldn't even begin to figure out. He'd always had her there, period.

And now, all of a sudden, he didn't. He was all alone with his two-month-old in a big house and all he could think of was a million of what-ifs, one more horrible than the next.

Heaving a sigh, he held his daughter securely against him with one arm while going through the motions of heating up her meal with the other. It hadn't been difficult for him to master the technique, especially since he'd already been used to living with the use of only one hand.

After ensuring that the milk was at the right temperature, he moved to the living room, where he sat down on the couch directly across from the working fireplace and shifted Sarada so that she was cradled in the nook of his arm instead. When he tapped the bottle against her tiny mouth, she instantly latched onto it, beginning to suck happily as she snuggled into his chest.

Sasuke couldn't resist a smile. He doubted he would ever get over the feeling he had when a being so soft and precious and so entirely _his_ cuddled so closely and securely against him. Without knowing what he'd done in the past, without caring what he'd been through and what had brought him here, Sarada trusted him, and she needed him, and there was no excuse powerful enough in the whole wide world that would explain an action, from his part, that would somehow disappoint her.

There was nowhere for him to hide with this precious creature, and Sasuke genuinely couldn't have been any happier about that.

"We'll be fine," he murmured to her, his lips quirking into another soft smile as she huffed in response. Bending down, he pressed a light kiss to her forehead, before concluding resolutely, "Yeah. We'll be fine while your mother satisfies her craving of putting some shinobi back together."

* * *

Sakura arrived home that evening feeling strangely more relaxed and content with herself. She loved both Sasuke and Sarada with every fiber of her being, and the time that she had spent at home, with them, she cherished dearly; it had been lovely and precious and she wouldn't exchange it for the world. But, at her very core, Sakura was a medic. She was a healer. And she needed her hospital probably just as much as it needed her.

Sniffling as her nose started to thaw once she stepped inside the warm house, she unbuttoned her coat and removed her winter boots, setting them all neatly in their respective places. It wasn't until she began to unwrap the thick scarf from around her neck that she noticed the unusual silence of the house.

Checking that the front door was firmly locked behind her, she started a familiar path down the darkened hallway. "Sasuke-kun?" she called out, careful not to raise her voice too much. It was well past Sarada's bedtime, after all.

She received no response.

Frowning, she released a small wave of chakra, discretely probing the ground floor of the house, ready to expand her search further up. She smiled once she realized there was no need for that—both objects of her deepest affections were currently sharing the same room.

Turning right, she silently slid open the door to the living room, half expecting to find Sasuke pacing the room with a sleepless—but appeased—Sarada in his arms. It was a sight she often woke up to during the nights when she was particularly tired, and the first cries of her baby girl failed to penetrate through to her subconscious. She swore, however, that Sasuke's eyes always snapped open before Sarada had even finished articulating her first whimper.

That being said, she was quite surprised to be met only with more silence and an apparently empty room. All the lights were off, leaving only the steady glow of the fireplace to illuminate the room, casting gentle, flickering shadows upon the surfaces.

Tiptoeing her way across the floor, Sakura rested her hands over the back of the couch as she gently peered down.

She bit her lip, the reason why she had been met with silence until then painting the most beautiful picture right before her eyes.

They were sleeping. Sasuke was lying on his back, a colorful cushion beneath his head, one hand resting on his abdomen, the other on Sarada's small back, completely encompassing it. The baby girl, in return, was lying on her stomach, little hands fisted in the material of her father's shirt, face buried, as seemed to be the norm in their family, in the crook of his neck, her small body, clad in the sweetest pink onesie, snuggled in his chest in a manner that made her seem so tiny and so precious that Sakura barely suppressed a coo. A warm blanket covered them, stopping right under Sarada's shoulders.

Neither appeared to have been disturbed by her presence. Briefly, she wondered if Sarada had been a handful; Sasuke was, after all, a very light sleeper. But the living room was as tidy as she'd left it, and their baby looked clean and warm and peaceful, so the pinkette started to entertain a different idea, centered mainly on the well-known fact that Sasuke handled their daughter better than anybody.

It was probably only him that didn't trust himself, she thought, and that would resolve itself with time. She, herself, had moments when she felt as if she had no idea what to do or who to turn to.

She supposed it came with territory.

Letting out a small sigh, she leaned over the back of the couch to brush a hand over her daughter's head.

She looked at them, then, carefully: her husband, the man that she had loved forever, the man that she had smiled for and cried for, the man that had broken her heart and mended it back together, and yet never given it back, and the beautiful, perfect child they had made together, and felt tears well in her eyes, her heart swelling and suddenly feeling ready to burst.

This was her family. Her own little, perfect family. This was her life. And she'd had to go through Hell to deserve it, but she didn't regret a single second.

"Hey," Sasuke's low, sleep-roughened voice—a timbre whose familiarity nearly reduced her to a sobbing mess right then and there—gently lulled her out of her thoughts.

Meeting his gaze, she offered a small, watery smile. "Hey."

He instantly frowned, his entire body tensing. "Are you crying?"

Sakura gave a small laugh at his reaction. "No."

"You _are._"

"Sorry," she said. Bending over the back of the couch, she stretched her neck and pressed her lips to his in a chaste kiss, before gushing, "I just love you both so much."

Sasuke responded with a quiet snort.

As she looked back down at her daughter, a sudden urge to pick her up and hold her close enveloped her and just as easily overcame her, until she could no longer escape it. Biting down on her lower lip, she slipped her hands under her small, warm body, and, before she could convince herself not to, lifted her from her comfortable spot on her father's chest, cradling her curled-up form gently into her arms. Sarada made a small noise of discontentment, nuzzling her face into the crook of her neck, but Sakura couldn't truly bring herself to feel guilty as she breathed in the unique scent of her baby girl and absorbed the warm, comforting weight of her tiny body in her arms.

Upon re-opening her eyes, she wasn't surprised to find Sasuke smirking at her as he lazily pushed himself into a sitting position on the couch.

"Missed us much?" he teased.

Had the circumstanced been any different, chances were that Sakura would have replied with a coy, sarcastic remark. But she was holding her daughter in her arms for the first time in _hours_ and for some reason only now realizing how much she had missed it, so instead, she simply rounded the couch and gingerly took a seat in her husband's lap, careful not to rouse her slumbering child.

In response, Sasuke parted his legs, allowing her to find a more comfortable position, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pressing a light kiss to her temple.

"So, how was your afternoon, Papa?" Sakura smiled. "Did you have fun?"

Sasuke's own lips quirked up. "I suppose you can say that," was his answer, and she read his quiet satisfaction in between the lines. It _had_ been a good day, just as she had predicted.

"I'm glad," she murmured, as she once again brushed her lips against her daughter's fine hair. She didn't, however, miss the knowing smirk that pulled at her husband's lips, and she knew he saw that spark in her eyes, that excitement she could only relate to her work.

"How was _your_ day?" he humored her not a second later, causing a grin to break out upon her face.

"Get this," she started, talking in hushed tones, holding his gaze firmly as she babbled away.

She held her baby daughter in her arms as she slept, hyperaware of her presence, yet completely comfortable with it. She spoke in medical terms and jargon that she wasn't sure Sasuke could understand, but she wasn't bothered by it, because his eyes told her it wasn't her stories he was particularly interested in, but _her_. Her voice, her excitement, her _happiness_. She felt his fingers gently brush a lock of pink hair behind her ear and then felt them trail softly up and down her arm. His gaze was warm, and the fire burning steadily across the room from them wasn't the cause.

It wasn't the cause for the warmth in her chest, either.

Yes, she thought, feeling her heart swell again. She didn't regret a single second.

* * *

**Date: o3/12/2o14**


	4. round & round

"This is all your fault," Sakura muttered in frustration from where she stood in front of the mirror, adjusting a slinky black garment onto her—still perfectly thin—figure. "We're running late because you couldn't control your damn hormones." Reaching behind her back, she tried to grasp the zipper, but quickly gave up with a growl. "Come on and zip me up, Sasuke-kun!"

With a roll of his eyes, Sasuke, still shirtless and with his pants unbuttoned, calmly stepped in behind her, grasping the zipper between his fingers and sliding it up without a hitch. "I didn't hear you complaining, Sakura," he reminded her. Detecting her shiver when he accidentally stroked his fingers against her bare shoulders, he smirked. Leaning in, he pressed a sensual kiss to her cheek, ensuring to brush his lips against her ear while at the same time run his knuckles down her arms as he murmured throatily, "Actually… if I were to judge by your reactions, I would say you were enjoying yourself. A lot."

"Ugh, shut up," she complained, elbowing him away with a scowl.

Sasuke chuckled, and turned around to shrug on his shirt. "Besides, if it's anyone's hormones at fault, they're yours, and you know it," he added, his smirk widening when he heard his wife slam her hairbrush down on the dressing table.

"You pray to God no one heard me screaming, Uchiha, because you're the one who'll suffer the consequences otherwise."

"Why, Sakura!" he exclaimed, pretending to be appalled and not making the smallest of efforts to actually seem credible. While his fingers worked on buttoning up his shirt, he turned to face her, locking his mischievous gaze with her annoyed one through the mirror. "You're the one who forgot all about self-preservation and started screaming!"

"You're the one who _made_ me scream," she spat back.

"And I'd gladly do it all over again," he instantly retorted. "Now?"

Fiery green eyes narrowing, she hissed, "Don't toy with me, Uchiha!"

"Or what?" he goaded.

"Or no sex for a week!"

The pink-haired kunoichi appeared to be quite satisfied with her comeback until her husband scoffed and smirked.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but you would never manage to pull that off, Mrs. Uchiha."

Sakura took a long, good look at him, in his formal attire consisting of black pants and a white shirt, his spiky, _messy_ black hair and the hint of pale skin stretching over toned muscle that his unfinished task offered her. A glance at his deep onyx eyes, and she recalled the low timbre of his voice and the feel of his lips against her skin and—and she _cursed_ herself and her hormones and nature and _life_ for springing them upon her with this pregnancy.

Because she hadn't felt his hands on her body in as little as ten minutes, and still, she completely _melted_ under his heated gaze and teasing smirk.

Her throat suddenly dry, she had to swallow before she spoke. "Yeah." And when she did, her voice was raspy enough not to leave Sasuke with the slightest bit of doubt as to what she had been thinking beforehand. "I probably wouldn't."

The Uchiha's eyes darkened.

Biting down on her lower lip, Sakura turned around, leaning back against the dressing table, looking classy and completely put together in her sequined black dress and matching, elegant shoes, with her lips perfectly painted red and her pink hair falling in careful, loose waves around her face—a far cry from the woman he knew she was (or at least had been, these past couple of weeks) under the sheets.

It was another moment that he spent drinking her in before he abruptly commanded, "Come here."

Sakura barely hesitated before unceremoniously kicking off her shoes. "You'll have to make it quick," she warned.

"Let me worry about that," he advised with a grin, catching her as she came flying towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, lips instantly latching onto his.

They were never going to leave the house in time.

But that was alright, Sasuke thought with as much of a smirk as he could, given his wife's violent, needy assault; official jōnin party or not, he would much rather spend his evening listening to her breathy screams than to the dobe's idiotic rambling—or to any other sound, for that matter, in the whole wide world.

* * *

**Date: 13/12/2o14**

A/N: This was supposed to be a stand-alone one-shot, but then I thought, why not post it in here? So I did! :)

I know it was short, but please review!


	5. first christmas

Sasuke walked out of the bedroom that evening to the sound of giggles and baby talk coming from downstairs. He smirked, ran the towel through his wet hair one more time, and started on his way down the corridor.

He had returned from a patrol only an hour earlier; the large house had been mostly dark, but not cold, and not silent. The ice that had been clinging stubbornly to the bloodstained walls had melted as soon as Sakura had first stepped through the front door so much time ago, and with the arrival of their baby daughter, the silence had vanished just as completely.

And that, Sasuke thought, warmed his heart in a way that neither of them would ever understand—in a way that he hoped and that he would fight, every single day, to evade them for the entirety of their lives.

As usual, Sakura had welcomed him with a kiss and a home-cooked meal, and Sarada with a squeal and a healthy tug on his raven hair.

She was smiling now, constantly; and she was giggling and gurgling and chewing on her fists and flailing her little arms and legs in the air—and Sasuke was absolutely captivated and enraptured by every little sound or movement.

He'd loved Sarada, so much, since the moment Sakura had placed his hand over her abdomen and told him they were about to become parents, since before he knew she was a girl, since before he chose her name, since before he saw her ten perfect fingers and toes; he'd loved her, so much, ever since she was the size of a peanut, and he hadn't imagined the feeling would change. But with each day that passed, he seemed to fall a little more in love with her, his heart stretching to lengths he'd never even dreamed it was capable of, in order to accommodate her and every single gesture that she did.

It was a wonderful feeling; terrifying, without a doubt, but absolutely wonderful.

Throwing his towel in the laundry basket in the downstairs bathroom, the Uchiha made his way into the living room, where the sight of his little family sitting by the Christmas tree, illuminated only dimly by the light of the fire and with the Uchiha symbol sewn onto the back of their matching outfits, had him unable to hide a smile.

"Do you like the Christmas tree, sweetie?" Sakura asked Sarada, who was slobbering over her right fist while smiling just as widely as her mother. "Yes?" She gave a light laugh and pressed a kiss to her round cheek. "You do! You're definitely your mama's girl. Yes, you are!"

As Sasuke stepped closer, the baby's gaze shifted over to his tall figure, and the realization that her father had entered the room instantly triggered a squeal and a series of fussy movements. Sakura seemed to interpret them perfectly, because she turned with a knowing smile, passing Sarada on to him once he had closed the remaining distance between them and settled beside them on the floor.

"Hi," he greeted his daughter as he carefully cradled her in the nook of his arm, a warm feeling bursting inside him as she snuggled into his chest.

It did inexplicable things to him, this tendency of hers to cuddle and nuzzle and unknowingly seek warmth and protection from_ him_. He didn't think he could explain it, and he didn't think anybody who wasn't already a father would be able to understand. To hold something so small and warm and _his_… something so incredibly precious… There were no words for that, and, for once, it wasn't because he could never seem to find his.

Sarada had grown since she'd come into the world, yet she was still so small in his strong arms. She was still so fragile, even though it was clear—to everybody, not only him—that she had him wrapped around her finger, holding his entire world in her clenched little hands.

Pressing a small kiss to her forehead, he gently shifted her so that she was facing her mother and the Christmas tree, holding her upright, with her tiny back to his chest.

Sakura smiled at her, grasping one of her hands and bringing it to her lips.

"You're perfect," she repeated what she told her almost on a daily basis, smiling. "You're so, _so_ perfect." Then she turned her attention to him, stretching her neck so that she could kiss his cheek. "And this is perfect," she added. "Thank you for coming home early."

Sasuke almost rolled his eyes. "There's no other place I'd rather be, Sakura, and you know it."

There had been times when he had wanted to be alone, times when he had pushed people away, but he couldn't imagine doing it again—not with Sakura, not with Sarada—and he couldn't imagine doing it on Christmas. The holiday itself was irrelevant to him, but his wife loved it, and, by the looks of it, his daughter would grow to do the same; the _meaning_ behind it would definitely have him home every single year, to put up entirely too many decorations, and help his wife bake ridiculously shaped cookies, and spend an insane amount of time and money looking for the perfect presents.

And, in ten years from now, he was sure he would be able to say it again, without having to worry about lying or deceiving—there was no other place he'd rather be.

"Do you want to see what Mama and Papa got you for Christmas?" Sakura addressed Sarada, who encouraged her with a squeal. "I should have said Santa, but before your papa takes the opportunity to say I've ruined your childhood, let me just point out you don't really know who that is, now do you?" Sarada giggled, and Sasuke rolled his eyes with a snort. "I thought as much!"

"Can I point out you're not supposed to open presents until Christmas morning instead?" the Uchiha jibed.

His wife threw him a mild glare. "She will open one of them," she said, turning to quickly select a carefully wrapped box from the pile crammed underneath the tree. She met his amused gaze, and huffed. "I'm excited, okay? _What_?"

"You wrapped up her presents," he pointed out, torn between convincing himself that she was crazy for going as far as she had, when Sarada clearly wouldn't remember any of it, and wanting to kiss her for being such an amazing mother and person.

"Of course I did," was her simple reply. "It's Christmas."

She undid the bow and tugged on the colorful wrapping paper, encouraging Sarada to help until they had, between them, between smiles and giggles, ripped it all away.

"Yay!" Sakura exclaimed once the last bit of paper fell to the side, clapping her hands and earning a laugh from the infant. "Now, let's see what's inside…" She removed the lid and gasped dramatically, pretending to be surprised as she reached inside and pulled out a tiny red dress, made out of expensive lace and with the Uchiha symbol sewn onto the back—a present that Sasuke definitely hadn't seen before. He wondered how many other things she'd slipped under the tree without his knowledge. "Look at this! How gorgeous will you look during dinner with Grandma and Grandpa tomorrow night?"

Sarada giggled. Laying the dress back inside the box, Sakura pushed it out of the way and leaned in to press a sound kiss to their daughter's cheek, before cuddling into his side, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I love you both," she murmured, prompting Sasuke to turn his head and brush his lips tenderly against her forehead, before shifting Sarada so that she was once again cradled in his right arm, while his left came to encircle his wife's small waist. "And I have no idea how such a small being can make such a big difference in our lives."

He huffed, a small smirk on his lips. "I don't, either."

Sakura reached out to offer Sarada one of her fingers, but the infant instantly clamped her hands onto two, causing a laugh to bubble past her mother's lips and another giggle to leave her own mouth—and Sasuke's heart melted all over again. He _felt_ it. He literally _felt_ lava pooling into the place in his chest that he'd once thought was empty.

And it hit him, without it being a surprise in any way, shape, or form, how much he _loved_ them. How much he loved this woman and the precious treasure that she had given him. How he couldn't imagine life without them. How, in his quest to keep himself closed off from the world and immune to another tragedy, he'd managed to form the same attachment whose loss had nearly destroyed him the last time.

He would never be able to recover from losing them.

So, he told himself, it was a good thing that he'd never have to.

There was a reason why he'd fought so hard to gain the immense amount of power that was now running through his veins, and, over time, he'd come to the conclusion that it might not all have been for revenge, after all. It might have been his unconscious way of ensuring that he'd never have to go through what he'd been through again.

He'd protect them, without a shadow of a doubt, from everything.

But, at the same time, he acknowledged how equally important it was to _love_ them.

Tightening his arms around them, he turning his head and nuzzled his face in his wife's sweet-smelling hair.

"Sasuke-kun?" she inquired, and he didn't fail to read the confusion in her voice.

A moment passed before he found his voice to speak. "Thank you," he whispered in the crook of her neck.

Sakura smiled, turned her head, and pressed a kiss to his temple. "You're very, _very_ welcome."

* * *

**Date: 21/12/2o14**

A/N: Two things: **christiixd**, if you're reading this, it's partially for you! You once (a long time ago) requested a SasuSaku family prompt, and I first got the idea from your prompt, so here it is! Then it started to develop as a small sequel to _Heartbeat_, and if you still want to see it that way, do it, because the content hasn't changed—except Sarada's name, which was, instead, Mikoto! (It's a bit funny because I haven't finished _Heartbeat_ yet, but you all already know there will be a happy ending, and there aren't really any other references to the story itself.)

Also, I have changed the timeline of the last chapter, as Sarada couldn't be three months old here if Sakura had been pregnant the Christmas before. My bad! I clearly want every day to be Christmas.

Hope you've enjoyed, and as usual, please review!


	6. hormones

"You're upset," Sasuke stated, watching his wife warily from where he stood at the counter, behind the kitchen island, slowly stirring a spoonful of sugar into a cup of tea.

Sakura sat at the table, head hung low, arms crossed over her chest, lips pressed together in a pout, small bump hidden almost completely by the loose, high-collared sweater she had stolen from his side of the closet.

That was exactly the way she'd greeted him when he'd walked through the door that afternoon, sweaty and tired, but home early from the short mission he'd been sent on only a day prior. He'd jumped into full protective mode the instant he took notice of her eyebrows, pulled downwards in an annoyed frown—and what had he received in return? A shove, a clipped explanation, and a warning that if he as much as _suggested_ that she was being ridiculous, he would be left with absolutely no reason to ever again even consider the notion of sharing a bed with a woman.

Smart man that he was, Sasuke retreated upstairs, to their bedroom, and occupied himself with washing away the evidence of a full day of travel, with choosing clean clothes, with unpacking his belongings, with putting his weapons away, with throwing his dirty uniform in the hamper… and trying, very, _very_ hard—and failing, very, _very_ miserably—to keep his mind off his wife and her… 'predicament'.

After a sufficient amount of time had passed—and he finally decided that he couldn't stay away anymore—he wandered back downstairs, coaxed her into joining him in the kitchen, and set out to prepare her a relaxing cup of tea.

"Sakura," he called once a full minute had passed and she still seemed to have no intention of answering.

"Of course I'm _upset_, Sasuke-kun," she snapped, green eyes blazing as they found his. "I wanted to paint her room! I wanted to paint cats and cherry blossoms and now I can't, because I get _sick_!"

Bringing the cup to his lips, he took a sip and grimaced. It was overly sweet and fragrant—and exactly how Sakura drank it. Satisfied, he rounded the island and walked over to the table, setting the tea down in front of her before bending down to press a kiss to the side of her head. "You know paint fumes aren't good for her, anyway."

"I can _deal_ with the paint fumes!" she nearly shrieked in insistence. "That's why I'm the best medic in Fire Country! I can protect my baby! But not if I'm hugging the toilet seat instead!"

Sasuke pulled out the chair that was closest to his wife and sat down, facing her, leaning back as he silently studied her.

"So, she doesn't like the smell of paint," he concluded, and then shrugged. "_I_ can paint her room."

The deadly stare that Sakura gave him told him exactly what she thought of his idea _and_ where he could shove it while he was at it. "You're going to draw cats," she deadpanned.

"…No," he answered after a brief moment of hesitation, unsure of what to say or do, unsure of how to act when she was in this type of state—half angry, half sad, ninety-five percent irrational. It was a combination he'd never quite known how to deal with, to be perfectly honestly, and the situation had only worsened since she'd become so… emotionally unstable. "But I can paint the background. And you can draw the rest later. Maybe you'll stop feeling sick."

"I won't _stop_ feeling sick," she snapped viciously. "I'm already out of my first trimester. If she _still_ doesn't like the smell of paint, then she doesn't _like_ it, and it's not going to _change_."

"…Well, then. Maybe we can get Sai to do it," he suggested.

"I don't want _Sai_ to do it!" she yelled at him. "I don't care if he's better at it than I am! _I_ want to do it! _I'm_ her mother!"

"Okay!" Sasuke said, raising his hands in the air. "Okay, I get it. There." He pushed the green cup closer to her. "I made you tea."

With a heavy sigh, Sakura reached out and grabbed the warm ceramic with both hands, slouching over it in a defeated manner. "I was really looking forward to this…" she murmured, the disappointment ringing clearly in her voice.

"Hey, no," Sasuke panicked, leaning forward and placing his hand over her forearm. "Don't cry."

"I'm not," she grouched quietly.

But he wasn't convinced. "Here."

Standing up, he made his way back to the kitchen island, from where he retrieved a small storage scroll. He'd had a feeling that comforting Sakura wouldn't be easy, and because his instincts were his best friends (regardless of how much the dobe would complain if he heard this), he'd listened to the wise voice whispering in his head and only returned downstairs with a trick stored up his sleeve.

"What's that?" Sakura asked, still pouting, eyeing him suspiciously.

Sasuke didn't answer. Allowing the scroll to unfurl towards the floor, he bit his thumb, went through a sequence of quick hand-signs, and, a millisecond and a small puff of smoke later, out popped a huge, pink toy slug, whose tentacles started to bob up and down just as Sakura's eyebrows climbed straight into her hairline.

"Oh my God," she whispered, green eyes wide with surprise.

Sasuke raised an expectant eyebrow from where he was barely visible behind the large plush toy, arms squeezing it around the middle in order to meet halfway.

"Oh my God!" she yelled, and instantly straightened in her seat, hands reaching out, bright grin the size of Konoha.

It was the reaction he had been waiting for all along, and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he closed the remaining distance between them and handed the toy over to his wife, who immediately started to hug the life out of it.

"You bought her a slug!" she exclaimed joyfully.

"I thought it would be a bit more sanitary than having real ones popping up around the house."

"Aww!" she coed, looking up at him with large, happy green eyes and half of her face squished against the slug, a single tentacle tangled in her hair, and that was really all the 'thank you' Sasuke needed. "I love you, Sasuke-kun," she confessed sweetly.

Sasuke simply huffed and brushed a hand gently over her head in response, his heart swelling with her sudden change in mood. "Aa," he murmured, watching her tenderly. "I love you, too."

* * *

**Date: 14/o1/2o15**


	7. girls' night out

"So," Sakura started as she gracefully made her way back to the bar dividing the dining area and the living room in the Uchiha household, carrying a cocktail shaker and sporting a bright smile. "How does it feel to know that, in about five to ten seconds, you will be savoring your first margarita in, what? A year?"

"It feels very much like 'shut the fuck up and fill my glass, bitch'!" Ino urged, eyeing the approaching shaker with hungry blue eyes.

Sakura laughed. "Keep your panties on," she suggested coyly, but complied once she came to a stop across from where her friend was seated, pouring the first sips into her glass.

The blonde didn't even give her the time to reach out for a slice of lemon, much less add it to the mix; the moment she had finished pouring, she brought the glass to her mouth and promptly emptied it in three long swallows.

Green eyes widening at the scene, Sakura took a second to decide on whether she should be worried or amused. She settled on the latter when she saw Ino's entire posture softening dramatically, a heavy, happy sigh escaping her lips and a brilliant grin blooming on her face as she stretched out her glass for a refill.

"Wow," she laughed, doing as she was silently told. "You really needed this."

"You have no idea," the blonde groaned, this time around stopping to add a slice of lemon and a sprinkling of sugar to the rim of her glass. "Oh, and since you mentioned it," she added after taking another sip, "My panties haven't come off in quite a long while, either." She stopped, thought about what she'd said, and then shrugged. "Not for the right reasons, at least."

"I see," came Sakura's bemused answer as she, too, closed her eyes whilst enjoying the estranged flavors playing with her tastebuds, unable to resist letting out a soft moan. When she opened them a second later, she found her friend glaring at her from across the bar. She frowned. "What?"

"You're not even _thinking_ about being solidary about this, are you?" She scoffed. "Pfft, never mind, it wouldn't do me any good, anyway. As _if_ I wouldn't know that anybody who remembers how to moan like that wouldn't be able to understand me!"

Sakura grinned playfully from behind the rim of her glass. "I couldn't lie to you even if I wanted," she declared. "You're my best friend for a reason, you know?"

"Well, I'll tell you what, Forehead," the blonde said, leaning forward on the bar. "A tiny—really, _really_, really _ridiculously_ tiny—part of myself? It's happy for you."

Sakura laughed. Reaching for the cocktail shaker, she refilled her own glass before gesturing to Ino's. "More?"

She shrugged. "Why the hell not?"

"And we shall make a toast!" She proposed once she'd finished pouring, picking up her glass. "To many—"

"Shh," Ino interrupted her, frowning. "Did you hear that?"

Sakura's own brows pulled together in confusion. "Hear what?"

A moment passed in silence—then, suddenly, a tiny whimper broke it.

"Ah," the pinkette said, jerking her head to the side, gesturing behind her. "Baby monitor in the kitchen."

"Oh," was Ino's response.

"So," Sakura resumed, her grin returning. "To many—"

"_Shh_!"

But tonight just didn't seem to be her night, because she was once again interrupted.

She groaned. "What now?"

"Nothing," was Ino's awed response.

Her friend looked at her as though she'd grown a second head. "..._Nothing_?"

"There's _silence_!"

"...Yes, there is. Because you told me to shut up, remember?"

"She _quiets_ _down_?" she suddenly snapped, fixing her eyes, wide with surprise, upon her friend. "By _herself_?!"

Sakura blinked. "Huh? Oh, no!" She gave a small laugh and waved her hand in the air, as though dismissing the matter. "What parent is _that_ lucky? Sasuke must have gotten to her, that's all." She took a sip of her margarita, considering the subject closed.

But when she met Ino's eyes again, she quickly realized that was definitely _not_ the case.

"Sasuke must have gotten to her?" the blonde repeated, sounding as if she was very much still in shock. "Because she let out a _whimper_?"

Now genuinely confused, Sakura answered unsurely, "Yeah…?"

"_Oh my God_."

"What?"

"Sarada whimpers _once_ and both of you just—_jump_! To her rescue! Even though she probably doesn't even need you!"

Sakura's brows furrowed in bafflement. "Of course we do. She's our baby."

"But... but—" Ino stammered. "When do you have a life?" Lowering her voice to that type of harsh whisper that always came out even louder than normal speech, she hissed, "When do you have _sex_?"

Sakura gave a quiet laugh. "We just love her, Ino," she confessed. "I don't know. It's not a sacrifice, to either of us, even if what you say is true and she doesn't truly need us to be there all the time. We just... There's no way we could let her cry or whine or even whimper and _not_ be there. I know some people do it and their children turn out just fine, it's not as if they love them any less, but..." She shrugged, and repeated, "I don't know. Sasuke and I just couldn't do that. Besides, if we get to her in time, she doesn't get to start screaming—and that's less stress for all three of us."

Ino gave her a blank stare. "You do realize she's probably already learned that a _whimper_ will get her picked up and coddled and _spoiled_."

Sakura simply smiled. "We don't mind. We couldn't say no to her, anyway," she restated her point, laughing lightly when Ino narrowed her eyes in response.

Sasuke picked that moment to walk into the kitchen, holding a quiet, sleepy two-month-old in his arms, capturing both women's attention. He was really only visible for a brief moment, just after he stepped off the staircase and before he walked past the separating wall, but, as Ino was quick to realize, that was more than enough time to plant a dreamy look on her friend's face, who remained staring in the direction of the kitchen long after he had disappeared inside.

She snapped her fingers in her face. "Hey, Forehead!" she called firmly. "_No_! Do you hear me? Girls' night!"

"What?" she asked, blinking distractedly at her.

"I know what you're thinking," she accused. "Hot man with baby? Very nice. Uchiha Sasuke with baby? No words. But you're not ditching _me_ for _them_!"

"Didn't even consider it!" she swore, right as she was sliding off the bar stool. "I'm just gonna go say 'bye' really quick, alright?

But she didn't wait for a reaction, much less one of approval.

"Oh, come on!"

And all that Ino could do was huff and puff and glare holes into her childhood best friend's back as deftly hurried out of sight.

* * *

**Date: 17/o1/2o15**

**A/N:** Inspired by a post that kept going 'round on Tumblr, about how Sarada calls Sasuke and Sakura 'papa' and 'mama' and how, in Japanese, the equivalent words would imply that she's much closer to them than other children, who don't address their parents in the same way, are to theirs. And I thought about it and came to the conclusion that that is very likely to be true. These two really would love their baby more than any other couple. Because Sasuke's wanted a family forever, and he'd undoubtedly treasure it more than anything in the world. And Sakura's warm and kind and loving and patient and she's loved this man forever; how could she not love his mini-clone even more?

Do let me know how _you_ feel about this in a review! :)


	8. parenthood

"I don't want her to ever fear me," Sakura whispered, all of a sudden and out of nowhere, as Sasuke settled on his side of the bed that night.

He froze, on the mattress as he was, one of his hands still gripping the bedsheets, looking over his shoulder at her in complete and utter confusion. "What?"

Sakura sighed and turned to face him, green eyes finding his as she slipped a hand under her pillow. "I don't want her to ever fear me," she repeated softly.

Sasuke frowned. "What are you saying? Of course she won't fear you." He tried to figure out where this could be coming from, and his eyes narrowed when he thought he had. "Is this about the dobe? Because you know he's a moron."

Sakura had sent Naruto running out of their house earlier in the week because he'd broken one of Sasuke's ribs during training—and, as much as she usually wouldn't be the slightest bit bothered by the idea that she was, sometimes, frightening to people, ever since she became pregnant, Sasuke hadn't been very certain of the grounds they stood on when it came to her emotions.

"No," she murmured. "It's not about Naruto. I don't want her to ever avoid me, either."

His frown deepened as his confusion escalated, but, reassured by the fact that she was only being introspective and not outright hurt, the Uchiha finally allowed himself to settle down beside her, resting his head on his own pillow and his concerned eyes on hers.

"I don't want her to ever feel that she can't come to me and talk to me—about anything. I don't want to ever not have an answer to one of her questions. And, God, I don't want her to ever cry if I'm not there to comfort her."

"…Where is all this coming from, Sakura?" he asked, gently, placing a hand over the dip of her waist.

She sighed, briefly turning her gaze to the ceiling. "I don't know. I just… I want to be a good mother… But I'm afraid I don't know how to do that. So, I was thinking that, maybe… maybe it would be a better idea to focus on not being… a bad mother."

Sasuke scoffed. "You could never be a bad mother."

"You don't _know_ that," she insisted, green eyes returning to his—wide and beautiful and so damn _serious._

He heaved an exasperated sigh.

"I'm serious, Sasuke," she voiced. She placed a hand on his cheek, shifted closer—and it didn't take him another second to realize that this wasn't the hormones talking; this was _Sakura_.

Placing his hand on top of hers, he turned his head and pressed a kiss to her palm. A moment passed before he moved his, settling it on the small bump hidden beneath the silk of her nightgown.

Sakura had been pregnant for a little over four months now. He'd gone to checkups, dealt with mood-swings, marveled at tiny onesies, and picked colors and furniture to go in the nursery right across the hall from their bedroom. Two weeks before, Sakura had come home with a pair of little pink booties and told him he was going to have a daughter. He lied in bed with her, night after night, and spent hours brushing his fingers, in the gentlest of movements, against her swollen abdomen. He hadn't yet felt his daughter kick, yet he thought he couldn't love her more.

It was unlike anything he'd ever experienced, this feeling. This unconditional love, mixed with fear, mixed with protectiveness, mixed with such unadulterated happiness that it almost made him dizzy.

And, in light of all that and every single step of the way, he'd be a liar if he tried to claim he didn't worry. Because, if there was anything that Sasuke did perfectly well when it came to his loved ones, that was worry.

"…I don't want her to ever feel as if she had to prove herself. In anything," he whispered softly.

Sakura's smile brightened. "Me neither."

He swallowed heavily. Hesitated. In reality, there were two things that had him tossing and turning the night he found out Sakura was pregnant. Did the hundreds of small, everyday aspects of life that would be turned upside down the moment this baby arrived into the world not scare him? Oh, they did. They scared the crap out of him. But, it seemed, not as much as they scared Sakura.

Perhaps the reason behind that was simple. Perhaps it was because he had _her,_ and he could rest safely in the knowledge that, come hell or high water, she would know what to do. Everything related to showing kindness was something that Sakura was a natural at, and motherhood would be no different. Obviously, she didn't feel the same way about him, and that was understandable. She was amazing. He was… well, himself.

Or, perhaps, the reason behind that was another. Perhaps his mind was already too busy whirring with his two most important things to even consider others.

"I…" He paused. Swallowed again. Fixed his gaze on his hand, lying on Sakura's abdomen. His voice was barely a whisper when he finally said it. "I want her to know about Itachi."

Sakura's hand on his cheek made him look up. "I was thinking about that, too," she confessed in a murmur. Her green eyes were sad, but encouraging—the way they always were where his family was concerned.

Sasuke huffed, redirecting his line of sight towards his hand. He splayed out his fingers and wondered if his daughter would ever see him with the same eyes once she found out what he'd done to the person who'd loved him most in the entire world.

As usual, Sakura's voice pulled him away from the edge of the pit of darkness spreading out before him, always there, always ready to swallow him whole and drown him. "Promise me you won't ever let me get away with not running to her side when she's crying."

He blinked. The idea was so ridiculous, so entirely incompatible with the concept he had of his wife, that his mind simply refused to register it.

The confusion must have shown on his face, because she explained. "She'll be crying a lot. She'll be loud and fussy and maybe some days I won't know how to soothe her. And maybe I'll be tired and frustrated and hormonal, and maybe my heart will be breaking because I won't be able to calm her down. And maybe I'll want to close my eyes and pretend I don't hear her. And you have to not let me do that. Ever."

The corners of his lips quirking upwards, Sasuke consented. "I promise."

"I mean it," she felt the need to insist. "We can't be those kind of parents."

"I promise," he answered, letting his smile show. "Our baby won't ever cry and not be comforted."

The tension seemed to leave her body. "Okay."

Now bemused, Sasuke couldn't help but ask, "Anything else?"

Sakura bit her lip. "If I'm ever mad at her, for whatever reason… you'll have to tell me if I'm being irrational. You're good at that."

He chuckled. "Okay."

"Okay." A moment passed in silence, before she smiled in satisfaction. "I think that's it."

"Okay."

Shifting, he reached behind him to turn off the bedside lamp, leaving moonlight to light the bedroom. Sakura turned and settled on her side, facing the window. Sasuke buried his head in her shoulder and wrapped a protective arm around her waist, hand immediately finding her bump.

"I might write this stuff down," she murmured lazily as she traced sleepy patterns on his arm.

"And publish a book?" he jibed, eyes closed and every muscle of his body relaxed.

She shrugged. "I'm already a published author. Maybe it's your turn."

Sasuke snorted. "Funny."

She giggled.

Minutes passed in silence. Sakura's body lotion smelled of flowers; she was warm and pliable and reassuring, and his eyes were heavy… Would his daughter have her green eyes? Would she have her smile? Would she be as kind?

Sasuke's eyes snapped open as an unwanted train of thought flashed through his mind. "Sakura," he called.

"Hmm?" she answered—sleepily. But there was no trace of sleep left in _his_ system.

"No boys," he barked. "Ever."

Sakura started to laugh.

"You find it funny," he hissed. "I don't." He had a feeling he was more serious about this than he'd been when he'd talked about Itachi—and that wasn't really a statement the Uchiha made lightly or often.

"Oh, Sasuke-kun…" she snorted. "It's just…"

"You can laugh, I don't care," he said, sitting up on one elbow. "But if you expect me to tell you when you're being irrational—with the known risk of you breaking my nose or a rib or any bone, really—then I expect you to back me up on this."

Giggling, Sakura turned, rising to press a kiss to his cheek—then his chin, then his lips, mollifying his tense figure. "Of course, Sasuke-kun," she promised, still grinning, lips still brushing against his own with the words. "Of course."

* * *

**Date: o4/o8/2o16**

**A/N:** So, hi. So, I've been gone forever. So, I started to work on _Heartbeat_ and felt rusty as hell, so I thought I'd try my hand out at something else, hopefully recover my writing skills, and THEN write _Heartbeat._ Coz we all want a high quality chapter.

Hope you've enjoyed! If so, leave me a review and tell me what I need to improve on, coz clearly, I do. Thankies! :)

P.S. Changed my username due to (probably) obvious reasons.


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